by Elle James
Breaking Ties
Delta Force Strong Book #6
Elle James
Twisted Page Inc
Contents
BREAKING TIES
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Afterword
SEAL Salvation
Chapter 1
About the Author
Also by Elle James
BREAKING TIES
Delta Force Strong Book #6
New York Times & USA Today
Bestselling Author
ELLE JAMES
Copyright © 2021 by Elle James
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review
ISBN-13: 978-1-62695-366-6 (Ebook edition)
ISBN-13: 978-1-62695-367-3 (Paperback edition)
Dedicated to my editor Delilah Devlin who helps make my books shine.
To my family who fill my life with love and acceptance. I love you all dearly.
Elle James
Author’s Note
Enjoy other military books by Elle James
Delta Force Strong
Ivy’s Delta (Delta Force 3 Crossover)
Breaking Silence (#1)
Breaking Rules (#2)
Breaking Away (#3)
Breaking Free (#4)
Breaking Hearts (#5)
Breaking Ties (#6)
Breaking Point (#7)
Breaking Dawn (#8)
Visit ellejames.com for titles and release dates
For hot cowboys, visit her alter ego Myla Jackson at mylajackson.com
and join Elle James's Newsletter at
https://ellejames.com/contact/
Prologue
“I got a bogey at two o’clock,” Dawg whispered into his headset. Doug “Dawg” Masters lay low in the underbrush, his night vision goggles trained on the small compound thirty yards from his position.
“Got a truck coming in from the west,” Rucker reported. “Looks like it’s loaded with armed men. Estimate eight to ten plus the driver and passenger. ETA three minutes. Any sign of our target?”
“Not yet.” On point, Dawg was the closest to the compound and had the best vantage point. Movement from the central hut caught his attention. “Wait. Got people coming out now.”
“Kalani?”
“Hard to say in the dark. Three…four…five men, and they seem to be gathered around the one in the middle.”
“Kalani,” Rucker stated. “Be ready to move.”
The team responded, one by one. “Ready.”
“Lance, Tank and I will hold off the incoming,” Rucker said. “The rest of you know the plan. Let’s do this.”
The team moved in under the concealment of night, each equipped with either an M4A1 rifle with the SOPMOD upgrades or small machineguns.
Their mission was to take out an important leader of the Boko Haram, a man responsible for the latest rash of kidnappings of school children they held for ransom. The last raid had netted one hundred and twenty girls from a boarding school and had cost the parents and government a lot of money. The Deltas wouldn’t have been involved if the raid hadn’t also involved killing several American school teachers in the process. One of the teachers had been the daughter of a New York senator.
The powers that be in Washington wanted to send the Islamic State faction a message by way of taking out one of their most prominent leaders.
Which was why Dawg and his team of Delta Force operatives were neck deep in the brush and up to their eyeballs in bad guys. Their advantage? Boko Haram didn’t know they were there or that anyone would actually target them. They had the northeast area of the African country so afraid of them they met little resistance.
That was about to come to an abrupt end.
“Going in.” Ryan “Dash” Hayes moved the fastest of all of them. Because he was so fast, he was their point man moving forward.
“I’ve got your six,” Sean McDaniels’s voice sounded in Dawg’s ear. Mac was an excellent shot. He’d make certain Dash was covered on his way in.
Blade would move in at the same time from his position with Dawg providing fire support until Blade got ahead of him. The team would leapfrog closer until they were near enough to launch their strike.
“Blade going in,” Blade said into the radio.
“Bull going in,” Bull said.
“Gotcha,” Dawg said. “I’m right behind you.”
As soon as Blade and Bull made it past him and hunkered low in the tall grass surrounding the compound, Dawg left his position. Hunched low to the ground, he ran forward until he reached the corner of one of the huts.
“Dash is in position,” Mac reported.
“Dawg, Bull and Blade are too,” Blade whispered.
Dawg held his silence and raised his rifle to his shoulder. He and Dash had M4A1 rifles with noise suppression devices. Their best bet was to take out the leader while he stood outside. The people around him would immediately fall back and take cover inside the building. The trick was to hit their target before the leader made it back into the building.
Cutting off the head of the snake would slow the Boko Haram movement. The team knew it wouldn’t last for long. The US government hoped the strike would send a message to others of the Islamic State movement that their continued terrorism against the children of Nigeria would not be tolerated by the rest of the world.
Dawg hoped the leaders in Washington were right but doubted that Boko Haram would stop laying siege against the children, farmers and herders in Nigeria as long as the jihadists were alive and breathing.
As Dawg sighted in on his target, an SUV rumbled across the gravel toward the group of terrorists gathered around Kalani. Then a man stepped between Dawg and the terrorist leader. “I don’t have a clear shot,” he whispered.
“I do,” Dash said.
“Take it before the SUV reaches them,” Rucker ordered.
As Dash fired off his round, the group shifted again, giving Dawg a clear view of the leader.
The man between Kalani and Dash jerked and fell to the ground.
Dawg pulled his trigger. The bullet left the rifle’s chamber and hit the target a moment later.
The group of men still standing dove for the building, shouting. One of them grabbed Kalani as he slumped, dragged him through the doorway and slammed it shut behind them.
Dawg cursed. He’d aimed straight for Kalani’s heart. If the man had moved even slightly before the bullet reached him, he could survive. If he did, he’d use the incident as a war cry and proof that he was the chosen one to intensify the jihadist movement until all the infidels were annihilated from the earth.
The team moved in.
Gunfire sounded to the west where Rucker, Tank and Lance held off the truck full of terrorists.
More terrorists emerged from surrounding buildings, wielding AK-47s and machine guns.
Before long, the night was alight with gunfire and men shouting. If the team hadn’t been prepared, the confusion would have been overwhelming.
While Dawg, Mac and Blade covered, Dash ran forward, kicked in the door of the central building. He tossed in a fragment grenade and dove to the side, cov
ering his ears.
Dawg ducked and covered his ears.
Boom!
The front wall blasted outward, spewing a cloud of dust and debris.
The men who’d emerged from the nearby huts picked themselves up off the ground and fired into the night indiscriminately.
One by one, Dawg and his team picked them off.
The SUV that had been headed toward the central building spun gravel up from its back tires as the driver raced toward the road leading out of the compound and toward Rucker, Lance and Tank’s positions.
“Got one making a run for it,” Dawg said into his mic.
“On our radar,” Rucker responded.
The sharp report of gunfire continued, but the SUV plowed through the gauntlet of Deltas, swerving right then left. The windshield was blown out, but the driver kept moving until he was out of range.
“Damn,” Rucker muttered into the mic. “Gather what intel you can find. I’m calling for extraction.”
“Roger,” Dawg said.
The team moved in, conducting a swift sweep of the area and collecting anything that might be used by the intelligence guys.
With Bull covering for them, Dawg, Dash and Mac entered the blown-out building and dragged the bodies of the men inside into the open for identification. They took photos of the dead.
“Is it Kalani?” Dash asked.
Dawg nodded. “Looks like him.” He brushed his finger across the man’s dusty face and nodded. “He’s got the scar on his left eyebrow.”
“It’s him,” Mac said. “He had a gap between his front teeth, too. This guy has it.”
“We’ve got another truckload of fun coming our way,” Rucker said. “Time to bug out.”
The team converged outside the east side of the compound at the predesignated pickup point.
A Black Hawk helicopter swooped in and landed just long enough for the men to climb aboard.
Dawg, Dash and the helicopter gunner provided cover until the others were aboard.
The truckload of terrorists flew through the compound heading their direction, firing their weapons into the air.
“Go!” Dawg yelled.
Dash ran for the helicopter.
As soon Dash was aboard, Dawg turned and darted for the aircraft as the pilot started to lift off.
When he was near, Dawg leaped.
Rucker and Bull grabbed his arms and hauled him into the craft.
“Go!” Rucker yelled.
The pilot lifted the helicopter up into the air and swung to the east, away from the oncoming vehicle full of angry jihadists, firing their weapons up into the sky.
Until they were out of range, Dawg didn’t let go of the breath he’d held since diving into the fuselage.
“Did anyone see who was in the SUV that got away?” Mac asked.
Rucker shook his head. “No. The windows were dark. All we could tell was that there was a driver and a passenger based on heat signatures.”
“We got our target,” Bull said.
“Yeah, but who got away?”
“Doesn’t matter. We did what we were sent to do,” Rucker said. “Kalani is dead, and we can go home.”
Dawg climbed into a seat and buckled his harness.
Home to Texas sounded good.
He leaned his head back, thankful they hadn’t lost anyone and the world was down one badass son of a bitch responsible for destroying the lives of so many children.
He tried not to dwell on the fact that for every terrorist killed, there were always a couple dozen more ready to take his place.
Chapter 1
“Does this dress make me look too desperate?” Beth Drennan tugged at the hem of the little red dress that showed far too much of her thighs. “I don’t think I can sit or bend over in this.” She shook her head. “No, I can’t do it. I’ll just wear the jeans I was going to wear.” She reached for the jeans she’d pulled off minutes earlier when her best friend had brought her into her bedroom and insisted she needed more appealing clothing for the hail and farewell that evening.
“No way.” Nora Michaels snatched the jeans away from Beth’s grasp. “It’s about time you got back out there. You can’t keep moping around after your breakup with Dr. Poor-Excuse-for-a-Fiancé Parker.”
“He wasn’t a poor excuse,” Beth argued. “He was focused.”
Nora crossed her arms over her chest. “He didn’t have you as his primary focus…ever.”
Beth’s lips pressed together. She couldn’t argue with her friend. She’d fallen in love with Dr. Jonathan Parker while working with him at the Fort Hood Army Hospital. He’d been working there as a civilian while attached to the Texas Army National Guard. The man loved his work, relished challenges and volunteered for every deployment he could get assigned to. Even rescheduling their wedding twice to take on another assignment.
“Admit it,” Nora said. “You broke the engagement after the second time he deployed voluntarily to Africa. He didn’t put you first for anything.”
“He can’t help it that he feels compelled to save lives.” Beth tired not to grimace while she said that. She’d made excuses for him before.
Nora frowned. “Well, he didn’t save his life with you.”
“He still wants me to marry him.” Beth sighed. “I just don’t know if I can deal with being second string with his career always being first. I mean, I know we have to go when we’re deployed…I signed up for that, too.”
“But to voluntarily deploy when your wedding is only a few weeks away…” Nora shook her head. “He didn’t deserve you. At the very least, he should’ve waited to volunteer until you two were married.”
That was why Beth had called off their engagement. She’d told Jonathan he wasn’t ready to commit, and she didn’t want to tie him down.
“It’s been over six months since you two split. It’s time to wade back out into the dating pool.”
Beth frowned. “I’m not sure I like your analogy. Sounds like I’m heading into deep water without any type of floatation device.”
“Swim, baby, swim!” Nora dug a pair of shiny silver heels out of the bottom of Beth’s closet. “And wear these.”
“I’d rather wear flats,” Beth grumbled.
“And I’d rather stay home and make love to my man,” Nora said. “But it’s a hail and farewell party, and we’re going to meet new people and say goodbye to those shipping out.”
“But it’s not our unit. We don’t have to go.”
“No, but I have to go because my fiancé asked me to go.” She set the shoes on the floor and pointed to them. “And you’re going because you’re my best friend and you need to meet someone new. You’re not getting any younger.”
“I’m not even thirty yet.”
Nora lifted her chin. “But you’re getting close. You’re turning twenty-eight next month. Women over thirty are more likely to have difficulties getting pregnant.”
Beth snorted. “Especially if they don’t have a boyfriend, husband or a friend with benefits.”
“Even if they do, they could have difficulties. Your eggs could be drying up as we speak.”
“Nora, you’re a nurse. For heaven’s sake, they have drugs and fertility treatments. I’m not worried about getting pregnant right now. I’m focusing on my career.”
Nora’s brows rose. “Tick-tock, tick-tock.”
“Oh, shut up.” Beth bent to slip her feet into the killer heels that would have her weeping by the end of the evening. “If I get a blister, I’m blaming you.”
With a grin, Nora slung the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “Hopefully, you won’t be wearing them long.”
“I’m not into one-night stands,” Beth grumbled and straightened. “I feel like I should be walking the corners of the red-light district in Austin, not going to a hail and farewell.”
“Well, maybe you’ll get lucky, and it’ll be worth the blister you’ll get in those heels.” Nora laughed as she stepped through the door of Beth’s apartment. �
�Here’s to hoping.”
“I told you, I’m not into one-night stands.” Beth stepped through her door, turned and checked that the lock was secure behind her. “Even if I meet someone…interesting…I’m not going to sleep with a stranger.” When she turned to face Nora, Beth’s eighty-something-year-old neighbor was just coming out of her apartment on the first floor. Beth’s cheeks heated. “Good evening, Mrs. Morris.” She prayed the woman wasn’t wearing her hearing aid.
“If I was your age and still unmarried, I’d be open to a one-night-stand. The older you get, the fewer available men. They die younger than us females, you know.” Mrs. Morris winked. “Enjoy the sex while you can.”
Nora burst out laughing. “See? It’s not just me. Even your neighbors think your dry spell should be over.”
The heat in Beth’s face burned even hotter, and she sputtered, “Mrs. Morris…”
The older woman waved a hand. “I’m old. Not dead. I know what a good orgasm feels like.” Her lips twisted. “Last one I had was a decade ago. But you don’t forget.”
The image that blossomed in Beth’s mind wasn’t good. “Uh…thank you, Mrs. Morris.” But then, Mrs. Morris had seen a lot more life, and possibly love, than Beth could ever hope to see. Especially at the rate she was going. “It’s good to see you, Mrs. Morris.”
The older woman laid a hand on Beth’s arm. “Honey, you have to grab for the joy. Life is too short to pussyfoot around. I should know. I’ve lost two husbands. I know what it is to love and to lose.”
Beth frowned. “Doesn’t that make you afraid to love again?”
